LONDON CALLING
“Nonna? Who's Mum on the phone to? She's been on it forever, and I want to call Isabella.” Madison burst into the open-plan living room upon returning from school, throwing her stuffed rucksack to the ground, without a second thought. Maria scurried across to pick up the bag, which had been heavily customised by Madison herself, with numerous marker pen scribbles and further embellished by unidentifiable dangly objects. Who needed a maid, or manners, when you had a grandmother?
“ Bambolina, Mamma talk to agent in London.”
“Why?” Madison’s already prominent eyebrows raised in alarm as she glanced across at her mother, who was pacing back and forth on their large balcony. Despite the two comfy rattan chairs, made even more inviting by plump ecru cushions, Jamie couldn’t relax enough to sit down.
“I think she has job for her.” Maria didn't want to be the one to break the news, but someone had to. The phone had been glued to Jamie's ear all day. Her agent was offering her a lucrative job back in London, and despite it not being as high-profile as she was used to, Jamie was grateful for the work. Her career had mainly been in high fashion: runway shows and editorials. But as she got older, those types of bookings had become thin on the ground. This job was for a car client. She would be filming a couple of TV commercials, along with some stills for their campaign. Commercial work, whilst not regarded as prestigious, paid rather well. The problem was that she’d be away from them for two whole weeks.
“So she’s leaving us again?” Madison rolled her eyes as she looked over at her mother. Jamie’s blue floral print mini dress swirled and twirled around her long, lean legs every time she turned.
“ Bambolina , you know what it’s like.” Maria could sense the impending fallout. Any time now.
“London? Paris? Australia!”
“Mamma have to work. She here all winter but no much work. Normal for her to travel. Figurati! We have fun!” Maria reached out to hug Madison, but her granddaughter kept moving away. She didn’t want reassurance; she wanted her mother. Every moment with Jamie, however stolen, was priceless. As there had been less work on the island, Madison had become used to having her mother around more often, and she liked it.
“Think of all cakes we make without get into trouble,” Maria immediately offered, more jubilantly than she felt. Her English often got worse when a volcanic eruption was imminent. Whilst Madison was used to her mother being ‘busy,’ these last few months, she’d at least been in the same country.
“But it's not fair. Why does she have to go? I don't want her to go.” Madison was inching closer and closer in the balcony’s direction. Maria needed to think quickly.
“You wanna walk to beach to get ice cream? Nice place on corner do best gelato outside of Firenze .” But her efforts were in vain. Madison’s attention, now fully directed at her mother, would not be lured by images of cake, or ice cream, or even the beach. She wasn’t even listening. Instead, she made a beeline for the balcony.
Horror swept over Jamie's face as she realised Madison was charging her way. She hated ‘child’ protests at the best of times and, whilst speaking to a top London agent, they were absolutely unacceptable. Frantically, she began waving her arms in an attempt to shoo her away.
“MUM, why do you have to go? Say you're not going. Pleeeease.”
“Tabitha, I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow, but I'm on. Just email me the details. Bye.” Jamie hurriedly made her exit. She knew drama was about to unfold, and she didn't need the snooty, child-free Tabitha to be privy to that particular outburst.
“Mum, are you going to London?” Madison’s hands were now firmly on her hips; a stance she often took when she was angry. Hiding one’s emotions was not practised in this household.
Jamie paused, her blood pressure now rising to tropical levels. She recalled someone once telling her, ‘Having kids requires a totally different kind of love.’ They weren’t wrong.
“Yes I am. I have to work. It's only two weeks. You won't even notice that I'm gone.” Jamie motioned towards the stairs. If she could just make it to her room.
Madison moved forward faster than Jamie could retreat, screeching, “But it's not fair. I don't want you to go. Tell them your daughter needs you. How is Nonna going to take me to my drama lessons? You know she can't drive.” Appearing older than her ten years, Madison went to block the stairs, standing defiantly in her school uniform, which, like her rucksack, had also been altered, certainly shortened. Although Jamie was quite a few inches taller than her daughter—five foot ten in her bare feet—Madison held her gaze, as if by sheer will alone she might be able to change her mother’s mind.
The drama lessons have paid off well , Jamie thought sarcastically. Whilst she recognised it wouldn't be easy for her mother to run around after Madison, she couldn’t afford an au pair either. Their safety net was already at a dangerously low level. There were no other options. Therefore, no room for discussion.
“Madison, I have to go. That's all there is to it. Please don't wind me up about something I can't help.”
“But Muuuuuuum, I don't want you to go. Nonna, tell her she can't,” she said as her voice rose in panic.
Jamie admired her daughter’s strong will. She knew it would hold her in good stead for the future, but a little more compliance at home wouldn’t go amiss. The whining reached a glass shattering pitch, and Jamie needed to break free. What did they expect her to do? Turn it down? Was Maria going to work and support them all? At sixty-six and only ever having done small menial jobs, she figured probably not. And besides, there was a part of Jamie that was also quite excited—not that she’d ever verbalise it out loud. Two weeks of guilt-free pleasures. Two weeks of freedom and staying out until she wanted, with zero complaints from mother or daughter. The more she thought about it, the more the proposition became increasingly attractive. Madison would calm down.
But Madison did not calm down. Instead, Madison stomped around the bottom of the stairs in protest. Despite her slight frame, she’d easily put stampeding buffalo to shame.
“That's enough, Maddy. Enough. I said I have to work, and that's it. I'm going up to my room and I don't want to hear another peep out of you, understood?”
Feeling almost justified in her anger, with Madison's protests somehow giving her a licence to escape, Jamie vanished into the realms of her domain. Pulse racing, she walked over to her walk-in wardrobe and fished out the Dior box. Hidden beneath layers of white tissue was a Grey Goose miniature, inspired by her not-so-liquid lunch with Kate. Jamie had envisioned making a Cosmo at home but in absence of all the ingredients—and any semblance of calm—she took one look at the bottle and decided it was better than nothing. Kneeling down, she opened the lid, and swigged a large gulp directly from the tiny decanter. Ugh, not exactly a Cosmo , but she needed something to take the edge off. It was basically survival tonic and essential to her sanity.
As she sat there on the floor of her wardrobe, Jamie became mesmerised by just how many clothes she owned. It was like a giant dressing-up box, with every outfit possessing the ability to magically transform her into a different character. She ran her fingers along the bottom of the dresses: silk, satin, lace; every little girl’s dream wardrobe, and most big girl’s too. She spied a black lace basque. A gorgeous vintage piece she’d begged a stylist for after a shoot a couple of years back. Sure, she’d had to pay her a pretty penny for it, but Jamie smiled wickedly as she recalled that it was worth every last one of them. It had been Friday the thirteenth, and she'd been attending a Moulin Rouge themed party. The man in question—the man she’d had her eye on for quite some time, hadn’t stood a chance. Not that he’d known it. Jamie was the hunter but always pretended to be the prey. It was formulaic. Men, in her experience, were easy game, and she knew just how to play them. Everyone else’s unlucky day had become her signature fun one. Looking back at the brimming closet, Jamie contemplated how easy it might be to sell a few items of clothing; there were literally thousands and thousands of beautiful euros hanging all around her. The basque, however, could never be listed.
Walking away from the closet, Jamie turned on her CD player, which was set to ‘shuffle.’ Shot at the Night by The Killers came on. Jamie sighed. She loved that song. And goodness knows she needed a lifeline right now. She wasn’t sure Tabitha’s offer was really it, but at least it was something. Finally reclining on her daybed, her absolute favourite spot in the house, Jamie noticed the sea was totally flat, almost glass-like, and the most exquisite shade of aquamarine. She took a deep breath. Yes, she could be strong. Strong enough for them all. She had to be. Suddenly, Madison’s face came into her mind. Damn it, she had been harsh. Should she go down and try to diffuse the situation? But wait, wouldn't that only encourage Madison to protest every time something didn't go her way? Perhaps she could offer to buy her something in London? Bring her back a new iPad perhaps? That would work. Teach Madison that luxuries like iPads required money and the more she worked, the more lovely surprises she could have. Hell, it was tough being a parent. Yes, she'd done the right thing. Even Maria hadn't commented, and Maria always commented.
Thinking about parenting reminded Jamie of Kate. Shit . They'd arranged a lunch for the following week, and now she wouldn't be able to make it. She ought to call as soon as possible and reschedule. Turning the volume down on The Killers, she reached for her phone. She needed to get everything in order if she was leaving. She speed-dialled Kate's number.
“Hello?” Kate sounded flustered.
“Hey, Kate. It's Jamie.”
“Oh, hey. Sorry, I was juggling kids and the rabbits. Didn’t see who was calling. How are you?” Kate sounded distracted, but Jamie could almost hear her smiling through the line.
“Well, stressed, actually. Just had a major row with Madison.” Although thoughts of luscious men and dirty deeds had ebbed much of it away.
“Oh dear, why?” Kate sounded genuinely concerned.
“Had my agent from London on the phone. I have a shoot in London next week. Well, a two-week shoot to be exact and Madison isn't happy about it.”
“Poor thing. I bet she isn't. Great news about the job though.”
“Oh goodness, it really is. And to be honest, I'm beyond excited about getting away too. I could certainly do with a few fun nights out, a little shopping, or should I say ‘window’ shopping? I do miss the Kings Road.” The thought of a naughty little purchase made Jamie smile, even if it had to be a teeny-weeny purchase this time.
“God yeah. I really miss shopping in London. Especially Marks and Spencer.” Just as the words slipped out of Kate’s mouth, Jamie laughed out loud, thinking she must be joking.
“Don’t you knock my Marks & Spencer, missy,” Kate was quick to retort in jest. So what if she didn’t shop at Harvey Nicks, not even Mussolini would stop her little Marks & Spencer’s guilty pleasure.
“Okay hun, you can have your Marks & Spencer, but I’m heading straight to Agent Provocateur. Ooh, I'm so excited. But listen, that's why I'm calling. I won’t be able to make our lunch date.” The silence on the other end of the phone lingered.
“That's a shame,” Kate eventually said with a sigh. Then in a moment of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, her brain almost audibly ticking over, she burst out, “What about tonight then?” Remembering that David was taking the girls to the tennis club for supper, Kate realised she had a rare evening to herself. It was either that or spend it with the bunnies, and she knew which option she preferred.
“Tonight?” Why hadn't Jamie thought of it before? It was her lucky day. A genuine get-out clause from the family plus the opportunity to sip guilt-free cocktails with her Marks-and-Spencer-clad new buddy.
“Yeah, why not? I just need five minutes to get dressed and about half an hour to get there.” Kate was on a roll. She liked this new version of herself.
“Wow, you surprise me, Kate. Can’t say I know many women that can be ready in five minutes. But absolutely. I’ll meet you at the beach bar at Portals, beside the little church.”
“Say around seven?”
“See you there.” Jamie was so elated when she put down the phone that she quickly slipped on the sexy basque before getting dressed. Turning on her large ring light, she decided to film a little reel for her Instagram followers, and who knows, maybe she could shift some of her pieces for more money. Dancing around her bedroom as she addressed her adoring fans, Jamie practised her own version of Burlesque, whilst imagining a potentially delicious audience. There was a god.